


The Shackles Cooled

by cavicanem



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavicanem/pseuds/cavicanem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Signless has finally been captured and sentenced. It doesn't mean he'll let the Highbloods make a show of him, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shackles Cooled

You were the Signless, and you were going to die.

There were many events leading up to this. You knew it was going to happen. But now that it was… It was so surreal. You could hear your beloved Disciple scream and cry for mercy, begging for your life to be spared, sobbing and fighting. You hung from your shackles, feeling oddly detached from the moment.

Your Mother was there too. She was screaming as well. Fighting with the Executioners and Legislacerators, trying to get closer to you, and doing a rather impressive job of it despite her chains.

“Please! Stop!” You cried out, trying to reassure the two trolls. It did nothing but make Disciple wail louder, thinking you were begging for mercy, you supposed.

You didn’t let them know that you’re just as terrified.

A Legislacerator was reading out sentences decided on by Her Imperious Condescension herself. His Honorable Tyranny assisted in deciding, of course. You had already known what your sentence was.

“Torture as well as death by fire.”

They intended to make an example out of you. Very well, a messy death it was. You had known it was Condesce who intended this, wanting to stamp out any resistance left, with you screaming as you were tortured and burned.

You observed the crowd in front of you, Disciple having broken and sunk to her knees, sobbing, while the Dolorosa just stared, her face blank before turning to an expression of devastation.  
The Psiioniic had been sentenced already, or he would be here as well. Condesce had taken one look at him and decided she wanted him in her Battleship, to be used as a Helmsman. He hadn’t done anything beyond befriend you, yet… He was being punished by being turned into a machine. They hadn’t listened to your pleas or whatever you had told them, the Condescension had already made her decision. He was to become an upgraded engine. You remembered the expression of absolute shock before fear on his face, looking to you. You wondered if he hated you. You thought about it a moment and decided he had the right. You didn’t like yourself very much at the moment either. You wondered where he was right now.

A shriek before an extreme pain in your gut brought you back to reality. The Head Executioner, Darkleer, had obviously arrived and put an arrow through your stomach. You hissed softly and the crowd jeered as your mutant red blood flowed, proof of your heresy as well as your inadequacy as a troll. You wondered why a blood colour had so much power and smiled softly, reminded of where this had began.  
Your visions had begun long ago, when you were only a few sweeps old. Originally the Dolorosa had thought you were damaged in your think pan, but just learned to accept your… What did she call it… Ravings. You decided to focus on memories, positive ones, how this had come to be. They were starting the torture and you would not let them win. The damned highbloods could have their execution, but that did not mean you would give them a show.

You remembered the visions of Alternia at peace, everyone equal and happy. In contrast to the miserable war-torn world now, polluted by prejudice and social classes decided by something out of any troll’s control. You remembered the strange troll in some of your visions, a girl in a long green dress, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. You remembered her name as the Handmaid. You remembered talking to her, and her talking back, and the two of you just sitting and discussing things unrelated to both of your lives.

You remembered when you first met your Disciple, when she had first crawled out of the forest by the Birthing caves. You remembered her almost-purrbeast-like eyes, her wild hair and refusal to bow down to anything. You remembered when you started to love her, a feeling beyond description of usual troll relationships. You remembered when she returned the feelings. You remembered how she could be sweet one moment and fierce the next. You remembered how she would hang on to your every word. You heard her crying. You felt rage spike within you, how could someone make your Disciple cry? To make her scream and thrash and fight for freedom?

Your thoughts moved to Dolorosa. Oh, Mother Rosa. She had always been there for you, you remembered when you learned that most troll wrigglers had lusii, not an actual troll, for a caretaker. You remembered the feeling of her dress when you buried your face in it, crying at some injustice you had witnessed that day. You remembered her quiet petting, her quiet comforting that slowly led to steeling yourself against such acts. That slowly led you to standing up for trollkind itself, telling them ‘It doesn’t need to be this way!’ You remembered her discipline that kept your temper when you were younger in check. You remembered how she would always nod along when you told her of some plan or sermon, and how she would always attend and stay at your side, just like Disciple. And… Psiioniic.

Psiioniic. You were so sorry… He was your best friend. Had been your best friend. The two of you had met by chance after you had stood up for a ‘rustblood’, and he had agreed to help you. Well, not so much help as accompany. He would help as a way to get the message out, however, being able to tell other Psiioniic workers about your sermons and where to attend them, knowing exactly which ones wouldn’t betray them and tell authorities of the locations. You remembered his strange eyes, his obsession with everything in twos or dual, you remembered when he had gotten upset with you that one time for being too reckless and nearly getting caught by a Subjugglator. Sometimes you had wondered if he had been flushed for you. You should have asked. You didn’t think it would have gone anywhere, you had Disciple after all, but… It would have been nice to know.

You felt the sting of a whip across your chest and the welling of blood that followed. You remembered all that had happened in the past few days.

Suddenly, you felt angry.

Rage like you had never felt before.

You growled, and the growl turned into a scream.

“Fuck!” You screamed, repeatedly, you didn’t even know what you were screaming anymore but you just needed to yell, to fucking curse these bastards who were causing you and everyone else so much pain!

The crowd went silent as you ranted, raved about feelings they would never experience and things they would never know as long as they were so closed minded to the world around them. Disciple broke finally from the grip of the Legislacerators and threw herself at your feet, but you continued, enraged as years of repressed frustration and sadness and anger released itself.

“Stop! Kill him, now!” You heard Darkleer order. The Executioners gathered around you, stripping you fully and tossing your clothes away, you offering no resistance but continuing to scream and roar. You heard Disciple sobbing again, crouching, watching as the wood was stacked and lit.

You didn’t feel the flames as they slowly consumed you. You didn’t feel the heated iron shackles burn at your wrists.

You did, however, feel a slow calm wash over as your rage subsided. You felt a sense of peace as the flames roared over you. You looked to your Disciple, face smudged with ash and stained with angry tears, and smiled. She stared back and smiled through her sadness and the crowd screamed in their bloodlust.

You were calm as everything went dark, and the world went silent.

The shackles slowly cooled.


End file.
